


Into The Dark

by Sans



Category: The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dark, Badass, Dark Character, F/M, Heavy Angst, The Bonnie Bennett Effect
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-29
Updated: 2014-11-13
Packaged: 2018-02-15 05:28:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2217483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sans/pseuds/Sans
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five years have passed since Bonnie Bennett forsook the good for the dark. She returns to Mystic Falls to unravel a mystery only to find herself ensnared in the final confrontation between current and former allegiances.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. i

**Author's Note:**

> Decided to migrate this story from FF.net for archival reasons. Also, Bonnie Bennett stories are woefully underrepresented, so here's my contribution. I hope to finish this story at some point, so be on the lookout.

A/N: This is a product of disenchantment with the characterization of Bonnie on the show. She's such a complex character, and I wanted to represent that complexity the best way I know how: fanfiction. Read, review, and enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not own The Vampire Diaries, and do not seek to profit from this shining example of fanning.

:

The sun crystallized the strip. Every color popped. Even the grit had a shine. A breeze shook the palm trees and added to the illusion of balmy perfection. Tourists meandered up and down the sandblasted sidewalks, going in and coming out of hotels modeled after Paris and Rome and Venice. So many people smelling of suntan lotion, sharp cologne and fruity perfume, talking, indulging in the numerous bars spread out every ten yards or so. No one paid attention to anyone, not when the barometer read 94 degrees yet it felt like 75. The hotel bars spilled drink specials right at the feet.

Bonnie slipped on her sunglasses. She had enough of people watching. They were all the same — oblivious to nature and to the terrible dangers of perceived perfection. The lovely young bartender handed her a black leather server book. The bill was a fraction of what it should be for the two drinks, but Bonnie took out a fifty dollar bill and tucked it under the crisp white receipt with a name and number scribbled next to the price.

She left before the bartender returned. Her cell phone vibrated in her purse. One new text message from an unknown number. The code alerted her to the sender, hence the urgency of deciding whether to show or return to her hotel room to soak. She stepped to hail a taxi when a sleek, black Cadillac pulled up to the curb. The tinted passenger window inched open to reveal two bloodshot golden eyes. She could make a scene, blow up the car, summon a storm, block out the sun. Anything was possible, now. Anything but the freedom to act instead of react. She reached in her purse for a Black and lit it before sliding into the backseat.

The driver was someone she didn't know. The hybrid in the passenger seat was one of her shadows. She named the woman Leash. Leash was petite, like her. Black, like her. She had braided curls and brown eyes and a more symmetrical face. That's as much as Bonnie cared to remember about her physical appearance. Leash resembled her in every way that counted. Klaus made sure of that.

"I was under the impression this was my week off," Bonnie said.

"It is. This is a favor."

Bonnie blew smoke out the window. "This is a favor." She slipped on her shades and leaned back into the seat.

"Next time you feel like giving favors in my honor, leave me the fuck out of it."

Leash snarled. Bonnie only closed her eyes and savored the taste of cloves on her tongue.

The drive lasted the entire day. The sun set on her face, from hot to warm to cool. They pulled into the parking lot of a third-rate motel, neon sign and all.

"What's this?"

Leash held up a room key. "Your favor waits."

Bonnie looked up at the motel. Suddenly it all felt serious. The rules had changed on her and she wasn't prepared. Fuck. She grabbed the key and stepped out. There were three cars in the parking lot, none of them something he would drive. She started towards the building when the Cadillac revved once and took off. Bonnie watched it go. She didn't have care enough to fear or yell or question. Besides, whatever occupied Room 42 inspired some feeling other than indifference and self-loathing.

She soon found out the even rooms were on the second floor. The ice machine at the top of the stairs made a loud rattling noise. It was the only sound other than northbound and southbound cars. The place smelled like cheap window cleaner and lettuce.

38, 40. Bonnie stopped in front of a tangerine door with a turquoise peephole and '42' in brass numbering. There was a hole where the handle used to be. A long time ago she would have hesitated before leaping. Back when there was a reason to land safely. Staring at the knob-less motel room door, she wished she had a net.

She turned the key in the lock. A blast of heat turned her clothes into a steamer. The room had been renovated in striking iridescent hues of blue and purple and green. It was like living on the surface of a Morpho butterfly. Bonnie hated it. She shut the door, set the bag on an onyx glass side table, and settled into a plush deep purple easy chair. The door to the bathroom was shut but she heard the tell-tale moaning of pleasurable pain. Her eyes went to the black Tivoli table radio, then to the Sony plasma on the wall. She lit a Black and inhaled. The moans turned into a gasp of true fear which morphed into a strangled scream. Bonnie turned on the radio to a classical music station. She sank back into the chair and listened to Requiem Mass in D Minor.

There was a clink near her arm. Bonnie looked up and there he was. He plucked the cigarette from her lips and ground it out in an ashtray. The beginning strains of Stravinsky's Piano Sonata began. He clicked off the radio.

"You shouldn't smoke. It ruins the taste."

Bonnie glanced behind him. The bathroom door stood open. A shapely leg lay curved on the tile. She stood up, bringing her body close to his. He smelled like copper and a signature Bath and Body spray. Blood dripped down the corners of his mouth and stained his lips. Bonnie rose up for a taste. Power lingered there. He gripped her arm but she pulled back and went to the bathroom.

He didn't bother to clean up afterwards. No need to when he had her.

Bonnie supposed she should be thankful every ounce of blood had been drained. The gore would have been too much in this white room. The woman had been ripped into puzzle pieces. She looked at the naked body for a moment. Her life had come to this—an accomplice to murder. The murder of her own kind at that. She covered the body with a towel. One day that will be her on the bathroom floor, in one of these killing rooms. No one will throw a towel over her. No one will mourn.

Bonnie shut the door. He sat on the edge of the bed, staring at her. Their understanding only existed through their mutual hatred of Klaus. Their mutual helplessness rather. He used to remind her of the past. She held his gaze. The past had died long ago and this was the future. Revulsion furrowed his brow and his eyes went dark. She crossed the carpet to stand between his knees. His head hung low, his forehead brushed the top of her thighs.

"Look at me," Bonnie said.

He did. She slapped him. The contact burned her palm. She did it again with the other hand. Her wrist jarred in the socket. She hit him until her hands were numb, until they were both panting. There were tears in his eyes as he looked up in supplication and she resisted the incredible urge to snap his neck, break off the wooden leg of the dresser and plunge it deep into his chest.

"Why can't I do it?" she asked.

He ran his hands up the back of her thighs to her waist. Her neck flushed. He unzipped the skirt and eased it down over her hips and buttocks until it fell on its own to her feet. He brushed his palms over her skin. He kissed her inner thigh then ran a rough tongue over the artery. Bonnie kept her hands at her sides. There was a pattern. Soon he would rip off her underwear and that tongue would stroke her clit, his lips would suck, and his finger would slowly ease into her. Soon she wouldn't be able to not touch him. Soon she would say his name, whisper it, and he would finish her off with deliberate care. And then they would fuck each other until all their thoughts, all their emotions coalesced into a throbbing hum. They would fuck until they came close to being recognizably human.

He flicked his tongue over the bud of nerves and the bottom dropped out of her stomach. Her arms jerked to his shoulders. The room shifted. Her orientation changed. She was against the wall. Her shirt and bra were gone, as well as his clothes. Tension coiled his muscles, his erection pressed uncomfortably between them. The heat of the room had increased several degrees. Their skin shone with sweat. His hand dropped to her crotch. He watched her face go slack as he thumbed her clit. Her mouth opened and he kissed her. Her mouth filled with blood and cloves. He kissed her until she shuddered.

"Look at me," he said.

She did. He entered her in a thrust. It shook the wall. Her head fell back. He thrust harder. Her arms came to encircle him but he pinned them on either side of her head. She rotated her hips as he pumped. The frenzy had been replaced by purposeful strokes. Their eyes were magnets, incapable of drawing away. The climax came incrementally, coming like a duct tape carefully peeled off skin. She came in a senseless wave. A few more long strokes and his face fell to her shoulder. Their chests rose and collapsed in rapid rhythm.

They were still for a minute in the static aftermath. It had been altered irrevocably. The old selves were gone, lost to them forever. Bonnie felt his palm against hers, her fingers tangled with his. She loosened the grip and eased away. She bent and retrieved her ripped clothing.

"Leave them," he said.

He took the clothes and tossed them in the bathroom, next to the body. They stood naked before the bed. She watched him and wanted him and despised him. She let it show, let her nipples get hard and her eyes glare. He pushed her to the bed.

'I'm hungry."

Bonnie folded her arms beneath her head. "Her blood wasn't enough?"

He gazed at her body for a moment. "Not for that," he said.

* * *

He was gone by sunrise. So was the body. Bonnie woke to find the sheets cool and sunlight warm on her back. There was a note and a cup of coffee, still hot, on the bedside table. She left the note and drank the coffee. In the beginning, she mused over these notes. What did they mean, why did he leave them. Now she left them crumpled and unread in a wastebasket. What they meant amounted to nothing. Why he left them—his reasons were his own.

A simple outfit of jeans and a t-shirt were in the dresser drawer. She dressed quickly, avoiding the pristine bathroom. The absence of the body seemed to make it more present. Bonnie wanted to leave the room suddenly. The colors were garish in the natural light, lurid and disgusting like the scene of some subversive carnival show.

She grabbed her purse off the chair. The change of weight alerted her immediately. Inside was a jade green grimoire. Her mind clicked into curator mode. She flipped through the variegated pages, running fingers over watercolors of flora and fauna. The scrawl reminded her of a Victorian lady at a journal. The language certainly had an upper British lilt and though there weren't any dates, there were mentions of the Great Exhibition and sketches of gothic steeples and doorways. Bonnie shut the book and returned it to her purse. Her fingers brushed a set of car keys and a thick envelope. He always left her either feeling sore or feeling cheap. At least he left her a way out for a few days this time.

She left the motel room. Two cars were parked in front: a beat up red Datsun and a wine colored Mercedes coupe. She stopped by the front office. A middle-aged woman sat behind the desk, flipping through a magazine. She looked tired, harassed. Bonnie returned the room key.

"How much?" she asked.

The woman shook her head. "The man paid already."

"No, how much is this place worth?"

The woman inspected her surroundings for a moment. "Not much. I don't know why I keep it running. It's just me and two illegals."

"Maybe it's the décor."

"Maybe," the woman shrugged. "Maybe I'm just waiting for a natural disaster."

Bonnie slipped on her shades. "You know, I think your sign out front says 'No Vacancy'."

"Shit," the woman said. She went outside to look up at the electric sign. Bonnie went to the Mercedes, got in, and lit a cigarette. She inhaled as she shifted to drive. As soon as she hit the highway, the motel exploded. The woman staggered back, covering her face from the blast of heat and light. Black smoke and flames filled her vision. Bonnie smiled and tossed the cigarette. Nothing like a good burn to start the day.

Three hours later she stopped at a diner for a late lunch. Her phone had been off since her rendezvous and she debated the merits of turning it on while waiting for her steak dinner. There would at least be a message from Klaus. It could be important. Perhaps he found someone she cared for he could threaten, or he finally made due on his promise to kill those "Mystic Pizza Pests" and called to gloat. In every scenario, she'd have to call him back within the day or he'd send out his hybrid Pomeranians. Things got ugly at that point.

Bonnie entered her passcode and the phone vibrated with a fever of alerts, texts, and voicemail. The alerts notified her of any changes to her bank account or any unplanned entries to her apartment. There had been quite a flurry of activity on both accounts. Apparently she had a visitor and $150,000 in her savings. The text messages were from Klaus, as well as the voicemail. Except for one.

"Bonnie, it's Alaric Saltzmann. There's no easy way to ease into this after five years, so fuck it. Elena's gone, disappeared. Call me when you get this. Better yet, come back."

The waitress slid the steak in front of her, followed by the sides. Bonnie watched her with vacant eyes. Alaric Saltzmann. The last time she saw Rick, he was dead on the forest floor, his head dented and bloody. It had been quite the night. The night she severed all ties with the past. Five years wasn't long enough to forget. Bonnie played the message again. Elena's gone. Come back.

She thumbed through her contacts. Klaus had to know. It was her duty to inform him the blood bank vanished. Then again, Klaus could go fuck himself. She owed him, but not allegiance. She thought of calling Tyler, but he was in the desert, enticing the few independent werewolves towards hybridism. Besides, Tyler would launch the hounds of hell the moment she hung up in order to win some brownie points. Bonnie inhaled and scrolled up. As much as it pained her, she knew who she had to call. She hated looking at his name.

She hit dial and cleared her throat. He picked up on the fifth ring.

"You're calling. What happened?"

Bonnie licked her lips. "Alaric Saltzmann contacted me today. He requested my help."

"Your help?" Stefan laughed. "He might as well call Klaus."

"And here I am, calling you. What does that say?"

There was a pause. Bonnie could see him staring out into space, his eyes shaded by all those lashes. Suddenly his eyes shifted to see her and she shrank until his gaze disappeared and she was safe, a hundred miles away.

"What are you going to do?"

Bonnie took a sip of ice water. "I'm going to Mystic Falls, of course. I just wanted time to figure out what the B squad is up to before you're compelled to run your mouth."

He was silent for too long. He was dissecting her words, looking for the truth. Even in his purer Vampire mode, probity was the one quality he expected from anyone he encountered. Sniffing out the truth became his special skill. Lying became hers. It just added to the game they played.

"This is about Elena," he said. Bonnie rolled her eyes.

"I never get tired of the breathy way you say her name. Elena," she mimicked.

"I'll take your response as affirmation. And to answer the question you won't ask, yes. I won't interfere."

"Unless I ask you to," Bonnie added.

"Yes, unless you ask me to."

They let his words change to mean something else, and they let it grow between them, expanding until thoughts of Klaus and Elena and Mystic Falls fell away. She listened to him breathing, listened to her heart beating, listened to the soft whispers in the corners of her mind, urging her.

"I have to go," Bonnie said.

"Try not to blow up any more motels."

He hung up before she could respond. Bonnie stared at her steak dinner. Her stomach was too knotted to even consider eating. Come back. She bought a plane ticket to Virginia.

* * *

Mystic Falls was in the process of rebuilding. Most of the buildings lining the main thoroughfare showed their charred guts from the fire. Brick and wood and stone took up sidewalks; cranes and steel beams marked the sky. New trees turning brown outlined the roads and glossy green lamp posts stood on every corner. Plastic sheeting billowed in the late autumn breeze. A painter rested beneath one of the few old trees in the town square, his face angled towards the half-finished gazebo. A low clang rang out across the square. Birds flocked from the belfry as the old bells rang three times. It was one o'clock. For all the improvements, the Council forgot to fix the timing of the bells.

Bonnie smiled. The more things change. She blew smoke out the car window and watched the town behind dark brown shades. Mystic Falls maintained the picturesque hue of a postcard even during its reconstruction. People meandered about the square, nodding their hellos as they walked the dog or went to the post office or picked up milk from Carver's Grocery and Pharmacy. The brick siding of Mystic Grille came into sight. Bonnie gazed at the pale bulbs that would shimmer and flicker a bright red come dusk. Memories rushed back, so sharp they stung her eyes. They used to come there to gossip, study, and plan. It was their place, and then it wasn't. Then it never was.

"Slow down," Bonnie told the driver. The car rolled by the entrance. The doors were thrown open. Patrons already lounged at the bar. A handsome man with cropped blonde hair poured a drink and slid it down the bar top. Bonnie sat back when the man looked over.

"Idiot," Bonnie whispered. She lit a cigarette. "School should be out by now."

The driver nodded and they made a sharp turn out of town.

The halls of Mystic Falls High School were as cold and as dark as she remembered. An hour after school ended and the place was empty. No band practice, no committee meetings, no athletic practices. Those activities were too dangerous.

Bonnie walked through the empty halls until she came to the familiar classroom. Alaric sat at his desk, head down and glasses on. The rasp of pen against paper filled the room. He sighed and leaned back. The chair creaked with his weight. The afternoon sun shone on his face. He had permanent lines in his face, and strands of silver in his hair.

Bonnie watched from the shadow of the doorway. Nerves attacked her for the first time in years. Apparently the reality of coming home had attached itself to seeing Alaric Saltzmann dozing in his classroom. She didn't know how to 'come back' when she felt as though she was always gone. How to come back…

"Admiring my figure?"

Bonnie smiled. She pushed off the doorway and walked towards the desk. "I was just thinking that if you weren't some vague father figure, I'd screw you."

Alaric folded his hands on his stomach and snorted. "And she returns with a crude tongue."

"You called, I came."

"Alone?"

"Of course."

Alaric opened his eyes to look at the young woman perched on the edge of his desk. She hadn't simply changed. Bonnie had evolved. He was aware of her potency with a look, instead of a display. The angularity of her face hadn't softened with time, and that made the effect of her wide, green eyes and lush mouth all the more startling. She was peril.

"I haven't changed that much," Bonnie said.

"You have," said Alaric.

"So do we need to do the catch-up thing?"

"Are you still working for, excuse me, with Klaus?"

"Yes."

"Then we're all caught up."

Bonnie nodded. "Good. I hate small talk." She slipped off the desk and went to a large world map hanging on a sidewall. Red and gold pins were in numerous cities. Blue and green arrows flowed from one city to the next. Europe was a mess of colors.

"This could be a map of our war. Mystic Falls would be Europe," Bonnie touched a cluster of pins, "and these arrows show our futile movements against Katherine and Klaus."

"If you remember, the Allies won the war."

Bonnie glanced at Alaric. "We're not the Allies." She turned her gaze on the map. "You said Elena is gone."

The chair creaked. "Yes. Damon and I contacted Duke, her professors, classmates. She went on a historical field study and no one has heard from her. We searched her notes, questioned everyone, and came up empty. The last place anyone saw her was Salem."

Bonnie catalogued this information. It would be useful when she assessed the whereabouts portion of the investigation. For the time being, only one question intrigued her.

"How long?"

The chair creaked again, this time accompanied by a sigh. "Damon's going to kill me." A pause. "It's been nearly a year. We stopped receiving blood three months ago."

Bonnie plucked a red pin from the map. She trailed the keen end down her finger. Elena had slipped her boundaries for a year and not even Klaus knew. The hybrid guard tasked with protecting Elena had to be dead or they had somehow destroyed the sire bond. She would have to find them first. They might know to where Elena absconded. And after that…Bonnie pressed the point into her fingertip.

"How many bags are left?"

"None. We sent the last bag today, as requested."

Bonnie frowned. She was already out of time. Klaus would be notified when the bag had arrived, and then he could decide on when next he'd need blood. If Tyler found a new pack, it could be in the next three days. It could be tomorrow if the urgency was great.

Anger surged through her. They fucked up and now they came to her, like they used to. Always the last to know, always forced out into the darkness to battle the monster. The anger ate away at her compassion. Klaus would make Stefan kill Damon, or maybe he'd kill Damon and Alaric, or he'd ask her to do them both. And she would, just out of the sheer satisfaction of never having to be asked to make the Hail Mary play.

"I didn't ask you to come save our asses," Alaric said.

"No? Then why am I here if not to be your magical Girl Friday?"

The chair creaked and clicked as Alaric stood. The soft clack of a cane sounded as he limped over to stand next to her. She wanted to be petty and kick the cane from him, break it into pieces, and leave him there on the floor, helpless. Alaric was the last person she trusted, the last piece of her past she kept safe, and he had to go and use her like all the others.

"Elena found the stake."

Bonnie pricked herself with the pin. She whirled on Alaric. "You're risking your life on a story, Rick? How many times have we nearly killed ourselves looking for a way to kill Klaus? How many people have to die in order for this white oak stake of destiny to manifest itself?"

Alaric stared at her with an imperturbable look. He stared at her until she looked away. So it was true. There was a way and Elena found it. Now they need her to find Elena. The impossibility of this pissed her right the fuck off. Didn't they know she stopped giving a shit about their cause five years ago? Weren't they present for her absolute betrayal?

"You should have called Stefan." Bonnie flicked the pin back to its home in Berlin and walked to the door.

"Yes, we should have. Damon wanted to. But I called you."

Alaric walked to the desk. He leaned against it with a heavy sigh. "Despite what happened, Bonnie, I never stopped thinking you were good. Something broke in you, like it does in all of us. And we find ways to cope, ways to heal, and your way was through Klaus. But you haven't forgotten what he is, or what he has done." He looked at her. "If you did, Klaus would have ripped this place apart yesterday."

Bonnie hovered in the doorway. The dark inside told her to raise the alarm. And usually she'd listen, as it had stood unopposed for so long. But the gray spoke up, and it told her to trust that disappointment, trust that guilt, and trust these emotions other than irritation and anger. They come from somewhere deep, someone hidden. Trust this hidden self.

Bonnie inhaled. She thought about it on a breath, and exhaled. She rested her hand on the doorframe.

"I can only give this three days. Then Klaus will know and I can't protect you."

Alaric nodded. "I'll take it."

Bonnie shook the driver's hand. "Thank you for everything. I really appreciated it."

"No thanks necessary. It is what Klaus expects."

Bonnie smiled. "And he'd expect to know where I went and why I came. Tell him my Grandmother's house is going on the market. Tell him I left Mystic Falls as soon as this was done and you drove me back to Richmond, to The Jefferson."

The driver shook his head slowly. His thoughts emptied, and her words trickled in, growing louder and louder until it hurt. Then there was static and her words were redundant. Of course he would tell Klaus.

Bonnie dropped his hand and watched him open the passenger door and close it. He opened the trunk and put in imaginary luggage. It was quite comical. Bonnie looked after the car until it disappeared around a corner. She rubbed the spot of blood from her palm, picked up her bag from the sidewalk, and went to the idle gray sedan across the street.

"What did you do?"

Bonnie grinned. "A simple glamour. He thinks he's driving me to Richmond. And he'll tell Klaus I'm there. Most importantly, he'll believe it because it will act as a memory."

Alaric whistled, impressed. "Efficient. It looked like it hurt, though."

"It did. And he'll have headaches and I might appear in memories that I have no business being in. He might go a little crazy."

The car pulled from the curb and made its way down a suburban street not far from the Gilbert house. Alaric turned down Maple Street. Bonnie spotted the house immediately. The lawn was immaculate and the house had a fresh coat of paint. A bicycle rested on the porch steps. Lights shown from the windows, upstairs and downstairs.

"Who lives here?"

"A couple from Florida. They have two kids. I teach one of them. Really bright."

The porch light came on and a girl with long black hair stepped out, laughing on her cell phone. She looked at the passing car and waved. Bonnie almost waved back. It was Elena, but it couldn't be her. This girl looked so young, so naïve. Bonnie blinked and the girl was gone, so was the house.

"It was really hard for her to sell. But she couldn't stay there, not alone."

Bonnie looked out the window at the neighborhood she once knew. Memories crowded around, trying to overwhelm and flood her consciousness. She shut them out, battling back volley after volley until the houses were just houses and Mystic Falls was just a place on a map.

It was dusk when the brick façade and the paved circular drive of the Salvatore Boarding House came into view. Vines crept along the sides of the house. Brown, gold, and red fell from the trees and littered an already cluttered drive. Alaric cursed as he got out.

"Lazy asshole," Alaric muttered. He came around and handed her the keys.

"Go on in. I have to come in through the back, bring out the trash. Dump your stuff in one of the thousand bedrooms," Alaric said. He limped away, leaving her to stare up at the house.

"Well," she said.

The door opened when she bumped into it. The place smelled like wood polish and cologne. It was kept immaculate, as usual. She went to the small library they used as an informal command center. There were books on the tables and sofa chairs, folded newspapers in a basket, letters and bills in a miniature bear trap. Damon's sense of humor. Bonnie dropped her bags on the couch and went to the fire place. It hadn't been used despite the fall weather. She chucked some logs from the wood bin into the pit and took a step back. Flames flared hot and bright. Her cheeks warmed and she smiled. There was nothing she loved more than a fire.

"This is cozy," Alaric said. He tapped her shoulder with a glass of scotch and soda. She took it and they stood before the fire, drinking.

Bonnie recognized this time as the blue quiet before all the white noise. She savored the flavor, the light, the silence. She savored it until the last drop of scotch wet her lips. Alaric moved to refill the glass but Bonnie waved him away.

"Did you know Elena had a protection detail?"

Alaric paused. "No." He drank the rest of his scotch.

Bonnie frowned. "I guess this is where you stop being helpful."

"You asked a question and I answered. Now, ask me the right question…" Alaric raised a fresh glass to her with a smile. He settled onto the couch and pulled his briefcase onto his lap.

"Okay," Bonnie sat on a chair, "would Damon know?"

Alaric pulled out a pile of papers and a pen. "He wouldn't be that great of a stalker if he didn't."

"So where is he? Am I going to have to break up some sad blood orgy?"

Alaric slipped on his glasses and loosened his tie. "It's a Friday night. He's probably at a bar."

"Will he be back tonight?"

Alaric gave her a look.

Bonnie sighed. The best thing to do would be to wait for Damon to return. Alaric was right—Damon knew far more about Elena and her plans than anyone else, and he knew Klaus wouldn't trust him to keep Elena in line. He could have killed the hybrids…Bonnie shook her head. Klaus received reports from them periodically so at least one of them still lived.

Of course. Bonnie reached for her purse. One of them lived. She attributed the cleverness of the plan to Elena rather than Damon. He was reckless and got too hysterical when urged to think ahead. That didn't mean he was clueless.

"Mind if I take your whip?"

Alaric waved a hand. Bonnie took the keys from the side table. "Thanks Rick," she called as she ran to the door.

"Just be gentle—" the slamming door cut him off. Alaric raised an eyebrow. "Just be gentle with him," he finished.

* * *

There were only so many bars in Mystic Falls. Bonnie stopped in every one, scanning the stools, the sad wooden or concrete dance floors, even the back or side alleys. No Damon. She toyed with casting a location spell but she didn't have anything of his, and she didn't feel like drawing all vampires in a thirty mile radius. Bonnie parked on the shoulder of the road leading out of town and got out, breathing in the cold, wet air. The woods were lovely, dark and deep. A few miles to the west and she'd come upon one of the underground tunnel entrances. To the east was the vampire tomb, and south was the haunted old lodge of the hundred.

Nascent awareness tickled the back of her brain. Bonnie returned to the car and drove about three miles before she spotted a red hatchback. She parked behind it and turned off the engine, leaving on the lights. The hatchback had South Carolina plates and a bumper covered in stickers asking to save the whales, turtles, environment, boobies, and Tibet. A gold mankei neko sat on the dash.

Bonnie left the car and trudged into the woods. She turned back once to check her car. The lights still shone. She continued in a straight line, weaving through the trees. She smelled smoke before the orange light of a fire came into view. Her steps became more cautious as the odor of burning flesh filled the air. The flames drew her closer and closer until Bonnie stood on the fringe of a ravaged campsite.

Damon stood amid the collapsed tent, the discarded gear, the bloodied scraps of clothing. He had his back to her, gazing into the fire. Bonnie summoned power. The tip of her tongue and the inside flesh of her lips tingled. The wind dropped away. The atmosphere went smoky still and amber tinged.

Bonnie anticipated the lunge before he even turned. She threw him clear across the site. He bounced off a tree and landed on the tent. She stepped towards the fire. There were limbs, a torso, and a head. The flames blazed brighter and higher. The base of it turned electric blue. The heat was intense and pure. It burned the wood and flesh to ash in a matter of seconds. She saw Damon rise and shield his face. The fire roared and then went out.

The last vestige of smoke dissipated as Damon lowered his arm. There was no better reintroduction than a display of power. Damon locked eyes on her. He saw in her face annihilation, heard the thrum of power in her blood. This was not the same witch from years ago.

"You're getting sloppy," Bonnie said.

"I don't care," Damon said.

Bonnie tilted her head. "I should do everyone a favor and end this pathetic cycle of death and self-destruction you enjoy perpetuating."

Damon curled his lips into a smile. "And disobey dear Klaus?"

Bonnie only grinned. The smile dropped from his face. The scales dipped further in her favor.

"You didn't hear I'm autonomous now?" Her eyes glittered. "Would you like a demonstration? Klaus has always wanted your nose out of his business."

Fear never presented itself in a typical manner for Damon. He didn't tense up, his eyes didn't widen, he didn't start pleading. He shrugged and scratched the side of his nose. "Is that what you've been up to with Klaus? Sharpening that dull wit of yours?"

"Among other—"

Damon sped towards her and pressed her against a tree. He placed a hand on her wrist and a finger against her lips. Bonnie glared at him. Budding pain spread across his brain and deep into his skull. He leaned down to whisper, "I should have told you about the werewolf that has been stalking me."

The pain vanished. Her green eyes narrowed. She looked over his shoulder and to the side. A lean gray shadow slinked between the trees. Another growl reverberated through the air. Her eyes met his. He dropped the finger and smiled. Bonnie gritted her teeth. There weren't any werewolves left on the east coast, at least that was what Klaus told her. They were all hybrids now, and they all were linked to him. No hybrid changed unless Klaus ordered it. She spotted the wolf moving closer. It passed into a beam of moonlight. Its muzzle was matted with blood and meat. Its tawny eyes glinted in their direction.

Bonnie glanced up at the sky. It was a full moon, massive and luminous. Werewolves were difficult to control in their animal states. To battle with one under a moon so close to the Earth—she'd have to tap into dark magic. A growl came from yards away. They both tensed. Damon raised an eyebrow. Are you going to abracadabra us out of this?

Bonnie flipped through her mental rolodex of spells. Nothing came to her. She couldn't run as fast as Damon, and he sure as hell wouldn't take off with her. She couldn't kill the fucking beast either. There might be more purebloods out there and this wolf could lead her to them. That left the other option. Dark magic called out in that seductive voice. Fuck it.

Bonnie grabbed Damon and kissed him hard, biting his lip. He yelped and threw her to the ground. The werewolf took the opportunity to lunge at Damon, but Bonnie sprang in its path. They crashed to the ground. Razors sank into the soft flesh of her neck. Steel jaws clamped down and pain exploded to such dazzling effect, she could barely lift her arms to encircle the shaggy body. Through grey and white fur the moon beamed on her. She reeled the moon in and stripped it of its power, bit by bit, drop by drop until a panting naked woman lay on top of her.

"Bonnie Bennett?" the woman said. Her voice sounded dislocated. Her face was blurry, but the red stood out. Bonnie dropped her arms and felt her shirt. It was slick and heavy with blood. Cold numbed her. The euphoric blush of dark magic faded under the pang of dying. Bonnie closed her eyes and swallowed.


	2. ii

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Generally, this is non-canonical. Enjoy.
> 
> Lyric from 'Gypsy' by Fleetwood Mac

::

Two distinct voices hovered around her. Warmth and softness blanketed her body. Light flickered through her eyelids. The voices grew quiet. A dry hand touched her cheek, and then brushed her neck.

"The marks have closed up, but it looks like she'll scar."

Bonnie opened her eyes to see Alaric staring down at her. The gray in his hair was more pronounced, as were the lines in his face. When he smiled, she saw faint crow feet.

"I thought for sure it would be Damon tracking blood onto the carpet," Alaric said. He helped Bonnie ease into a sitting position. She rubbed her neck. The muscles were sore and the skin tender. Her finger tips tingled. The effect of the magic had yet to wear off.

Damon snorted. He sat by the fireplace, drinking. "You owe me fifty bucks."

Alaric frowned. "How so?"

"She didn't once attempt to kill me. She even leapt in front of Lassie over here."

Bonnie glanced to where Damon gestured. A woman leaned against the mantle, drink in hand. She was older, possibly thirty. Thick, shoulder-length red hair was pulled back into a ponytail. What skin wasn't covered in black jeans and flannel was tan and smooth. The woman darted a look towards Damon then drank the rest of her scotch. Bonnie only saw half of her face, but it was enough.

"Lorel Rufus."

Lorel flinched. Bonnie tempered her voice. "Klaus didn't send me here. He has no idea Elena is gone, and has been for months."

"Then what are you doing here?"

"To find Elena. I have my own scores to settle."

Lorel glanced at her. "And if I help you?"

Bonnie shrugged. "As I see it, I could have killed you in the woods, not to mention told Klaus of your betrayal. Instead, we are where we are, our hearts still beating in our chests."

Lorel weighed Bonnie's words. She struggled to reach a decision. Bonnie smiled to herself. As if the woman had a decision.

"I accompanied Elena as far as Salem. From there, I haven't a clue where she is or what she's doing."

"But she must have said something," Bonnie said. Confusion burrowed Lorel's brow. "So you just decided, after years of dogging her heels, to help her?"

Lorel raised the glass to her lips only to remember it was dry. She fidgeted with it instead. Bonnie watched her dart another glance to Damon. She wasn't looking for permission, Bonnie realized. She checked her enemy's movements.

It all fell into place. Bonnie rose from the couch.

"I need a walk." She reached for her coat. Damon got up to hand it to her. They shared a brief look before she brushed by him. The conversation she interrupted by waking resumed as she exited the house.

Bonnie breathed in the cold air. Winter soon approached and she thought of how she'd spend it. Most likely alone, in some warm country like India or Thailand. Take a boat out to a sandy inlet; eat fruit and sticky sweet rice under a glorious sun. Go wading in warm aquamarine waters. No one but her and the boatman. But that was wishful thinking. He would be there, somewhere. On a boat a few yards out, or floating in the same waters, or standing behind her, not touching with his hands, but just near her, touching with his eyes.

A boot scraped the porch. Bonnie turned to see Damon shrugging on a coat and holding a bottle of liquor.

He extended the bottle. "Peace offering," he said.

Bonnie waved it away. "Still putting on the human act?"

"I might not feel the cold, but I know it's there." Damon stood across from her. He looked at her long before looking at the barren yard. The minutes slipped by and the temperature dropped. Damon sipped at the bottle.

"Nice save back there."

"Improvisation is the nature of survival," Bonnie said. She gave him a tight smile. Old times hung in the air like an axe about to fall. Her neck was strained from stretching it for the blade.

Damon nodded with a sigh. "I didn't think you would come back."

"No one did. But here I am." Bonnie rubbed the tension from her shoulder. "Where's Elena?"

Damon shook the bottle at her. "I don't trust you."

"You never have. That doesn't mean you won't do what's best."

"I am the only one of us who has ever done it, fuck how it looks."

"Oh please," Bonnie said. "Take your head out of your shit for a second and take stock, Damon. Elena is gone. Stefan is gone. Alaric's a fight away from dying and what are you? Still clinging on to some antiquated notion of love and loyalty. You're pathetic," she shook her head, "so damn pathetic and predictable. No wonder Elena slipped you so easily. You've gone soft."

Damon stared at her for a full minute. Then he slapped her. Blood rang in her ears and suffused her senses. She slumped against the porch column. He hedged her in, taking her by the coat and hoisting her up until they were level.

"Are you so blinded by her that you can't see it? How do you think she got out of here? What leverage could she have to elicit a hybrid's help?" Bonnie stared into his bloodshot eyes.

Damon slammed her head against the column. "You might be a witch, but you're still human. Don't fucking push me."

"Elena traded your life for a chance at Klaus. And she did it without blinking. Why else would a hybrid change willingly? Why else would she not contact you?" Bonnie spit out blood. " _You're not supposed to be alive._ "

Her words had the same effect of a well-placed blow to the chest. He stumbled back, the vampire falling away to reveal a man dazed. Bonnie wiped her lip. Damon turned to the dark yard, his breath coming out in irregular white puffs.

"Lorel had two other hybrids with her. Her brother and a girl she grew up with. Where are they?"

Bonnie only had to see his sudden slackness to guess the answer. Pain from the slap radiated from her cheek to run along her jaw. She wanted to flay him, her fingers twitched with the want, but there were other ways to damage someone, to hurt them until they limped and flinched.

"And you're surprised she traded you for a chance at freedom? She's probably been planning this for years. Playing you all so she can get at Klaus."

Damon turned to her. "You're describing something Katherine would have done." Hope flared in his eyes.

"Katherine isn't this inventive. Besides, she's dead."

Bonnie grinned. She could push him with her pinky and he would crumble. It was…delightful.

He saw her satisfaction. Whatever bile was left came bubbling up, hot and fresh. His step towards her was full of violence. Bonnie only laughed.

"Are you going to hit me again? Do it." Bonnie angled her face. "But realize the last one was free. This one comes with a price."

The threat stopped him. He clenched and unclenched his fists. "It might not happen now, but it will happen, and I'll gladly die if it means I can strangle you."

Bonnie gave him an indulgent smile. "You can try. Maybe when all this is done. Try not to underestimate me next time, though. I don't want you looking the fool."

She stooped and picked up the bottle. She took a long drink, eyes on him. The days of when he dismissed her were done. She had cut him down, demolished his conceptions about the woman he loved, opened his eyes to the reality of the lengths Elena would go to accomplish her goal. And she did it without magic. He only sampled a fraction of her power.

She downed a quarter of the bottle before tossing it to him. He caught it midair.

"Pleasant dreams, Damon," Bonnie said. She walked into the house and closed the door with a firm click.

* * *

Bonnie dreamt of running. The path was rocky, the grass stubby and brown. Gray mist swirled around her. The faint shapes of massive black hills appeared on either side of the path. Light flickered along the slopes. She ran towards the point where the lights converged. She weaved through gnarled black trees and clambered over sharp black boulders and forded churning brown creeks. She ran and her breath rattled in her head like bones in cup. She lost sight of the lights. She slowed and looked back. In the gray mist were the shapes of people, people she once knew, people she loved, people she killed. They were noiseless as they poured over the boulders and through the creeks. She saw that they followed a single track of bloody footprints—hers. She turned and started to run in earnest. The lights flickered ahead. She flew across the ground, sure that the lights would protect her from the shifting faces of the dead.

The gray mist dimmed to a tangible blackness. She fought against its cling. The flickering lights materialized into a lane of torches. Pages covered the ground, pages from grimoires. She ran on, leaving a bloody path for the phantoms to follow. At the end of the lane was a stone altar half ringed by torches of blue flame. A body lay on the stone slab. A low bass thrummed through the air with her every step. The torches behind her went out one by one, and one by one the faces of the dead glowed with firelight. The body on the slab terrified her, but the retinue called forth a fear too base to confront. She continued on. A shimmering gold veil covered the body. She reached with trembling fingers and pulled it off. First she saw the lustrous blonde hair and then the smooth, cream skin. She fell to her knees as she gazed upon the face, a face she knew like her own. The blue eyes were closed and the animated lips still and pale. The air thrummed and the heat from the dead warmed her neck but she stared at the body. Under folded milk white hands was a black stake. She reached out to take it but the thrumming exploded into an acute tinny noise. She grabbed her head and looked up. A figure appeared between the blue flame torches, coming closer. As it entered the light, the black melted to reveal Elena, awful in her beauty and her hatred.

"You will know the cost," Elena said.

The press of cold steel against her throat brought Bonnie out of the dream. One of the benefits of working with a paranoid psychotic was the situational combat training. She didn't react when hair tickled her cheek, or when warm air flushed her ear lobe. She didn't tense when a voice whispered, "You should have told Klaus."

She waited for the moment, that moment between uncertainty and absolute conviction. She waited until Lorel, for it was Lorel holding the knife, slipped into the surety of a kill. When the pressure of the blade changed, Bonnie struck. She grabbed the woman's wrist and used her nails to dig into the flesh. Lorel grunted and before she could bring up her other hand, Bonnie punched her in the temple. Lorel crashed into the side table and fell against the wall with a thud. The effect was momentary. Lorel slammed into Bonnie as she leapt from the bed. They struggled. Bonnie shoved her knee up against Lorel's pubic bone. She didn't wait. She cracked her across the face and when the woman was on the ground, she stomped on her side.

Bonnie took the lamp that fell from the side table, wrapped some of the cord around her fist, then pressed the cord against Lorel's throat. When Lorel began to thrash, Bonnie tightened the pull.

"I know," Lorel choked, "I fucking know!"

Bonnie didn't ease her grip. "What do you know?"

"I can't—can't breathe," Lorel said.

"You're talking."

"Elena," cough, "Yukon. Whitehorse." Lorel started to wheeze. Bonnie dropped the cord. Lorel fell forward, coughing and gasping.

"Who sent you?"

"You weren't supposed to be the one to come," Lorel said. Her voice broke. She coughed again. "But she said just in case, take care of it."

Time and circumstance had made Elena cunning. And lethal. The surprise was world used to be so complex when it teemed with people who mattered. Divested of that complexity, it was nothing more than kill or die.

Bonnie had to decide what to do now. What should have been a simple hunt and recover quickly showed itself to be the beginning of a war. Her alliance with Klaus had made her the enemy, and if Elena could fathom killing Damon, Bonnie was nowhere near safe.

Lorel moved to rest against the wall. Bonnie turned her attention to the matter at hand. Common sense said to kill her. She could take her heart, no mess, no fuss. But questions still abounded. How did she break the sire bond? Were there others? And what the hell was Elena doing in Salem?

"Where in Salem did you last see Elena?"

Lorel rubbed her throat. "Are you going to kill me?"

"You've lied to me and tried to kill me. Twice. It's not looking good for you."

Lorel became much more amenable when Bonnie asked her again.

"It was an old store, an apothecary. Elena had me watch the place for a day, and when I told her everything I could, she told me how to break the sire bond. And she told me where Damon hunted, the time, and his type."

Bonnie sat on the bed. The adrenaline started to taper off, and she was weary. The stuff about the sire bond had to wait. Elena in Salem perturbed her.

"What did you find out?"

"Not much. The store was owned by a woman, Marlisa Rose. She owned the building, sold herbs, plants, cure-alls, poultices--occult stuff."

Bonnie went cold. Marlisa Rose was a name she came across in the grimoires of older witches. They respected her, and they left her alone. She translated this to mean they feared her. Powerful witches were common, but great witches were few. Marlisa Rose was a great witch with ties to magic so arcane, it defied categories of light and dark.

Elena found a weapon to use against her.

* * *

Bonnie paced the upstairs office. Alaric had come in to watch her for a few minutes, attempting to draw her out, but she just paced, mind closed to the external. Her mind and gut warred over what was next. There was no way she'd be able to contain this. Klaus would find out and hell paled in comparison to what would happen to them all. She could circumvent the entire problem and kill Elena, but that affected too many people. Not only was Elena a threat, but now there was a broken sire bond and a destroyed Damon. Who knows what sireless hybrids would do? Or an unloved Damon?

"Shit," Bonnie breathed. A tea cup rested on the desk. Bonnie took a tentative sip. The liquid had cooled. She drank it anyway, glad to do something other than think.

"I could hear you pacing from the cellar."

Bonnie nearly dropped the cup. Damon stood in the doorway. He held two glasses and a decanter of brandy. "Let's try this again," he said.

"Try what?"

Damon came towards her. She had to lean against the desk in order for them not to touch. He set the glass on one side of the desk and the decanter on the other. He poured a glass full of brandy and gave it to her. Bonnie couldn't read his eyes, couldn't anticipate the usual explosion of violence. His face was calm, his mouth curled in a wry smile. He raised his glass.

"To you getting us out of this mess," he said.

The glasses clinked and Bonnie drank while looking at him over the rim. He finished first and reached for the decanter again. The back of his hand brushed her stomach. The room got smaller and the brandy burned all the way to her lower abdomen. His lips glistened from the alcohol. Judging by the way he watched her mouth, hers did as well.

Bonnie set down the glass. "Was it only two hours ago that you wanted to kill me?"

Damon raised an eyebrow. "Was it? Oh well. I'd rather do something else to you now that you've stopped galloping to and fro."

"I'll need at least three more glasses to even consider fucking you."

Damon grinned. The realness of it startled her. The attention of his eyes and the closeness of his body—it confused her. She didn't know how to manage an attractive Damon.

"You should see your face," he said. He started to chuckle.

"Don't you have a murder to commit or the town's peace to wreck?"

"Seeing you panic is more satisfying than doing the usual," Damon replied. He walked to the sofa and plopped back, stretching out his feet.

"Why is the great Hecate so worried?"

"Not worried," Bonnie rubbed her neck, "never worried."

"Yes, I forgot. You're the prudent half of the evil asshole equation. So it is about containment. Who needs containing? The hybrid?" Damon rested his head on the sofa arm. "The hybrid is a nonissue."

"Lorel severed her sire bond, helped Elena escape, attempted to kill us, and she's the one person separating Klaus from bleeding this town and stripping it to the bone. Where in there is the nonissue?"

"Damn, you're right. You've got one hell of a shitstorm coming at you." Damon drank. "And maybe me. But I can duck and cover."

Bonnie faced the window. It had started to rain. She had to get out of Mystic Falls. Tonight. Within the hour. Ditch this place, fly to Manhattan, and hand the entire thing over to Klaus. None of this concerned her. She had no reason to be the protector. Damon and Elena and the rest could go to hell, but Alaric—she owed him. Bonnie hung her head. He forgave her after the worst. It would be so much easier if he died that night.

"Now you're motionless. This is the most stressed I've ever seen you."

"It must be nice to never clean up after yourself."

Bonnie felt the air stir and then the prickly sensation of proximity. Damon swept the hair from her neck. Alaric was right—there were scars.

"Despite the inherent antipathy between us, we've always been able to understand each other." He ran a finger over the jagged lines of scar tissue. Her skin was warm and dry and soft. She was human, but she was much more.

Bonnie turned. "I understand how a cockroach lives, does that make us similar?"

Damon took her face in his hands. "Who do you turn to when there's no one else?" He gazed into her eyes.

"You're good," Bonnie said.

"I'm only good if it works," his head dipped lower until their lips were mere centimeters apart. "Is it working?"

He had the body, and the rawness, and the appetite. He looked at a woman a certain way and her panties evaporated, along with any sort of common sense. She thought about it. The rough kiss, the leg hooked around his, his hand at her zipper, the other massaging a breast. It wouldn't be gentle. It would be great. But she didn't want him between her thighs, gripping her waist, nibbling her neck. She didn't want him.

Damon read her face. He dropped his hands and sighed. "I'm beginning to think I've lost it."

"Love to break it to you, but I've always been immune to your sexual magnetism."

"Sure," Damon said. He stepped away, taking her glass and the brandy. He stopped at the door. "Call him. He's probably on his way here anyway, but he'd appreciate the feeling."

Damon winked at her before disappearing. Bonnie stood in the room, at a loss. She grabbed her cell phone from the side table and went downstairs. Alaric was asleep in the inner study. She listened to him snore before stepping outside.

It was cold, colder than she remembered fall ever being. The stars were covered and the wind howled like children imitating ghosts. She stood out on the last step, peering into the darkness. The woods were dark and still. She walked the gravel drive. The pebbles crunched beneath her boots. She followed the circle, round and round, playing with the cell phone. Every so often she stopped and a puff of white air formed a brief cloud above her head.

"There's nothing you can do now," Bonnie said aloud, "but rest." Her grandmother's affirmation on how to handle difficult situations allowed her to focus on the immediate. She needed to think of herself.

Bonnie returned to the house. She retrieved her bags and stole a set of keys. The garage was out back, next to the garden shed. She went in through the side. There was the summer blue Camaro Damon drove, a classic Harley in blood red, and the red Porsche 356 Stefan had restored. She slipped the key into the Porsche's ignition. It rumbled to life. She put her bags in the seat next to her, wrapped a scarf around her head, pressed the garage door button, and rolled out into the night.

* * *

The drive to Richmond passed in a blur. When she blinked, The Jefferson was in the distance, and her hands cold and stiff. A valet was waiting to take the car. The night concierge ushered her inside, taking her bags and handing them to a bellman.

"We were told to expect you earlier."

Bonnie unwound the scarf and shook loose her hair. "I was delayed. Have I received any messages or visitors?"

"Yes," the concierge handed her an envelope. "The room key and the message are inside. Would you like us to send up tea, coffee, food?"

"Tea, Lady Grey, with honey, no cream. And if you have any of those oatmeal cookies left…"

The concierge smiled. "Of course, Ms. Bennett."

"Goodnight Kevin." Bonnie led the bellman to the elevators. The doors closed and she leaned against the wall, trembling. The envelope slipped from her hands. She bent to retrieve it but the bellman stopped her. He took out the room key and then handed back the envelope. She gave him a grateful smile.

They arrived on her floor and she followed the bellman to the door. He held open for her to enter. The suite was the same as it always was, richly decorated and spacious. She paused before the writing desk in the front area, rummaging in through her purse for money.

The bellman was right behind her when she turned. "Oh," she said, "thank you for your help." She handed him a crisp fifty. He narrowed an eye at her.

"You don't recognize me."

She took in his features. Nothing stood out. Then she saw the gold rings of his irises. All thought of safety fled. Bonnie folded the fifty back into her purse.

"Recognizing you would defeat the purpose, I think."

The bellman shrugged. "I am supposed to alert Klaus of your movements. He likes to keep track of you."

"And have you been doing your job?"

The bellman sniffed the air. "You've been around one of us. And a vampire. Did you kill them?"

Bonnie raised an eyebrow. "That's none of your business."

"It isn't?"

Bonnie stared at him a moment. Perhaps if she weren't so irritated already, she would be able to politely put him in place.

"I think we got off on the wrong foot," Bonnie said. She brought up her hand. The fingers were curled as through she held a ball. She squeezed and the hybrid started choking. She continued until he was on his knees, eyes watering.

"Your lungs are being crushed. But since you regenerate so rapidly, the pain doubles, then triples, and quadruples and expands to a point where every fiber of your being is a note of excruciation. You are powerless to stop it." Bonnie bent to gaze into the bellman's contorted gray face. "Do you understand who I am now?"

The bellman nodded.

"No. I want you to say it."

Tears ran down his cheeks. He tried for several seconds but in the end screamed a silent, horrible scream. Bonnie took it as an affirmative.

Her hand relaxed and the bellman fell onto his hands, coughing and sucking in air. She pulled him to his feet.

"Tell Klaus I am here. And never question me again."

The bellman stumbled from the suite. Bonnie flicked a finger. The door shut with a click.

Room service arrived with tea and cookies the moment she was done showering. She read the message in the envelope while she ate.  _Lightning strikes / maybe once, maybe twice._ Beneath the lyric was a phone number. She found her cell phone and started to dial the number, but stopped. Whatever he wanted could wait. She placed the cell on the bedside table along with the card and turned out the lights.


	3. iii

 

:::

 

Morning light filtered through the diaphanous cream curtains. Bonnie turned her head, exhaling deep into the pillow. Cotton and aloe vera and…vetiver? She cracked open an eye.

"Good morning, darling."

Bonnie wiped her eyes and when the vision didn't change, she sat up. Klaus lay propped up by the headboard. He wore a gray suit and his face was clean shaven. He watched her with the same kind of knowing he treated everything. Someone less experienced with Klaus would be in a frightened panic, but Bonnie merely stretched and fell back against the headboard.

Klaus reached out to tuck a strand behind her ear.

"I've been worried."

Bonnie spread her hands. "I'm right here, perfectly fine."

He folded his hands on a pillow. His blue eyes regarded her with warmth, his shapely mouth a grin. The loathsome aspects of his character had no bearing on his attractiveness. All the most terrible creatures were somehow the most beautiful. It must be nature's way of inculcating suspicion of too good of a thing.

"How was the sale of the family home?"

Bonnie remembered the cover story then. She reached for her phone and checked her email. The broker processed the sale of the house as she directed. The house that had been in escrow for five years was now on the market as of midnight. Bonnie showed Klaus. He nodded, impressed.

"So the broker gave you no trouble then. That's good. All your loose ends seem to be," he linked his hands, "coming together."

"And what loose end brings you to Richmond?" Bonnie asked.

"An ongoing affair. One that has me extremely worried."

Bonnie blinked. "Oh?"

"Oh?" Klaus mimicked. He ran a finger down her jaw line. "I know about him."

"About who?"

Klaus frowned. "Bonnie, dear, when will you learn? I've got eyes everywhere, especially on you. You're my left hand, my might, my lovely, lovely, little piece. It's my business to know all about you. Why wouldn't I know who you're fucking?"

Bonnie looked to the window. She threw off the comforter and stood in the weak sun rays. She felt his eyes on her ass. Klaus could easily do away with the flimsy camisole and lace panty she wore. She turned to face him. His eyes ran over her body.

"I don't belong to you," Bonnie said.

Klaus moved with vampire quickness to stand in front of her. "If you need, come to me. After all we've done together, why not that?" He stroked her arm. "Why not this?"

Klaus kissed her for the first time in a darkened club, in the middle of gyrating bodies. It startled her, not because it was Klaus and she detested him, but because it was full of longing and pleasurable. Kissing him then made sense. They were intoxicated and they were powerful, and there was an attraction neither could deny. The conditions were right and for all intents and purposes, it made sense to enter into a relationship with the one person she hated more than herself. But when the kiss ended and she saw herself in his eyes, an overwhelming pity crashed her senses. It sobered her. Here was a man so desperate for intimacy, he would turn to a witch who wanted to kill him more than help him. A witch who could never love him or tend to the tenderness in him, cultivate it so it could transform him.

He kissed her then and she despaired. Five years later, nothing had changed. The longing, the pity, the strange realization, nothing. Bonnie let his lips work hers, played the Sleeping Beauty to his Prince. He pressed her close, her toes touching the ground, arms loose. Bonnie bided the time. Soon he became aware of her lack of passionate intensity. And like that first time, he acted as though scalded. Bonnie dropped to her feet while he recoiled, anger drawing his face in tight.

"I thought you had better taste than to spread your legs for that asshole canker."

Bonnie only smiled. "I don't. And I'm not screwing him for his conversation, Klaus, or for love. I'm screwing him because he doesn't expect anything more than a few fucks a year and a guarantee he'll live a little longer."

"I should kill him," he said.

"Go ahead. I'll just find someone else."

Klaus glared at her. "And I'll kill him too."

"Wait," Bonnie paused, "if that someone else turns about to be you, you'd kill yourself? If that's the case," she jumped onto the bed and leaned back on her elbows. "You want?" she crossed and uncrossed her legs.

Klaus stormed out of the bedroom. Bonnie put her head back and laughed.

"Shut up and come out here," he said. He reappeared with a robe. "And put this on. I'm tired of looking at what I can't have."

The silk robe landed over her legs. Bonnie put it on. She heard him in the front room, talking to someone. There was a clink of dishes and the smell of coffee. She took a moment to let the panic she controlled since she woke seize her. She gripped the sheets. The skin of her knuckles drew taut. What was he doing here? Had he always been here? If he had known about Elena, she would know immediately, wouldn't she? And how did he know she was sleeping with someone? And why would he think it was Damon?

Questions swelled the more she tried to find answer. Klaus called her again. Bonnie straightened. She counted out her breaths until they were even and steady. There was no way he suspected. Nothing was amiss. Calm down, go out there, and act.

Klaus sat an upholstered chair, a breakfast cart before him. It was a nice spread of scones, crepes, biscuits with currant jam, strips of bacon, fluffy eggs, and fruit compote. A metal dome stood in the center. She whisked it off and there was a bowl of granola and a jug of milk.

"Because you are child," he said.

Bonnie thanked him and prepared her bowl of cereal. She sat across from him on the matching couch.

"I hope you didn't come all the way to Richmond for a rejection," Bonnie said.

"Don't flatter yourself, sweetheart." Klaus folded the newspaper. He bit into an apricot and cream scone. "The doppelganger has disappeared."

He announced it so casually. Bonnie left the spoon in the cereal. Klaus gazed at her while he finished the scone. He was daring her to claim she didn't know. Bonnie picked up the spoon and ate a mouthful of soggy granola. Her appetite had fled but she chewed and swallowed.

"I know."

Klaus brushed the crumbs from his lap. "You should have told me."

"So you could embroil yourself in another mini war? I'm tired of destroying towns and killing people when it could be avoided."

"How noble of you. Let me guess, you were going to formulate some sort of plan, fix the whole thing, stick a bow on it, something of that sort?"

"No. I was going to give it three days and if I found her, no harm, no foul. If not, then," she shrugged.

Klaus considered her words. "You're not lying."

"No need to lie."

"Is there anything else I should be made aware of?"

Bonnie ate another spoonful. "No," she said.

Klaus took a bacon strip. "Are you sure?"

Bonnie sighed. "I'm sure your dog told you everything," she said.

"Stefan hates it when you refer to him as a dog. He gets touchy and I have to call you my bitch to level the field."

Bonnie gripped the spoon. Stefan had followed her from Las Vegas. She put another spoonful in her mouth to choke out the fury. What was she thinking to trust him? He had proved time and again how changeable he could be, what made this time different? Bonnie remembered the card in her bedroom. He didn't want lightning to strike him once, let alone twice.

Klaus grinned and ate the bacon. "I am just teasing you. The sale of your house seems to be a portentous event."

Bonnie frowned. "Is there something  _I_ should be made aware of?"

"Ah, now she starts asking the questions," Klaus said. "Elena isn't a priority anymore."

Bonnie set the bowl aside. She knew better than to take this sudden reversal of urgencies at face value.

"Then what is?"

"Shoring up my assets. I have enough hybrids, enough wealth, and enough family. I have everything I want," Klaus pursed his lips. "Well, almost everything."

"You're so dramatic. What is it?"

"You."

"Well if I'm the new priority, you better refocus your attention to harassing Elena." Bonnie crossed her arms. "We will never happen."

"I think you like to be contrary just for the sake of it," Klaus said. He stood and withdrew an envelope from his inner suit pocket. "Rebekah neglected to send you an invitation to her gala of self-importance."

Bonnie stared at him, incredulous. "Are you kidding me right now? Elena is  _missing_."

Klaus tossed the envelope on the couch cushion next to her. "I am aware."

"So what are the directives? Seek and destroy? Torture the five people she has left?"

"If that's what you feel is best."

"You're leaving this up to me," Bonnie said. She frowned. This was unexpected.

"Let us be practical, Bonnie, for once. Elena will never cooperate. She's run off, no doubt on a mission to slay me," Klaus stooped before her, "but I have you, my sword, and Stefan, my shield. I will acquiesce to whatever you decide."

Bonnie gazed into his blue eyes. They had all the gilded trappings of honesty, but she knew how easy the truth sounded from a liar's mouth. Klaus gave her the illusion of freedom, just as she provided him with a false sense of loyalty. The question always came down to which door to choose, which lie to believe.

"If it turns out to be nothing, then I'll do nothing."

Klaus grimaced. "Nothing? For disobedience?"

Bonnie ignored him. "If it is something, then I'll send her by way of her brother."

"Why not kill her?"

"Because she isn't gunning for me, darling," Bonnie said in his affected drawl.

Klaus patted her knee and straightened. "Very astute." He buttoned the suit jacket. "I'll be in New York a few days. Call me if you have any leads." He took her hand. "I'm feeling very noir right now. Care to be my femme fatale for an evening?"

Bonnie grinned. "You are relentless."

Klaus watched her for a moment. "Have you heard of William Blake? Great man, completely insane?"

"'Tiger, tiger burning bright…'" Bonnie intoned.

"Yes. Whenever I am faced with a particularly hard choice, I think of what he said."

"And that is?"

"It is easier to forgive an enemy than it is a friend."

Klaus dropped a chaste kiss on her knuckles. "I'll be seeing you soon."

Her eyes followed him out the door and lingered on the cream paneling long after it had shut.

* * *

The forecast said a sixty-percent chance of rain. Bonnie looked at the sky. Gray clouds billowed out from the east. In the distance a lone flash of brilliance cracked the gray dome. This was the kind of weather tailored for rumination. She took a turn about the room, sat on the couch, lolled around the bed. Her body refused to settle. Restless, she pulled on soft leather boots and a light pea coat, wrapped a scarf around her neck, slung her purse across her chest and left the hotel.

Fat drops splattered the pavement five minutes into her walk. She set off at a brisk pace up Cary Street. Perhaps she should have gone on to the slip, but the walk would have been short, and she needed the cold, wet air a while longer. The drops came faster, forcing her into a boutique of odd little knick-knacks, most of them geared towards tourists. Fortunately, they sold umbrellas. Bonnie purchased the least of the ridiculous, a Victorian-inspired black parasol, and stepped once more into the rain, now deluge.

She glanced at her watch. It would take a good hour to reach Carytown in the rain and under the burden of her thoughts. Bonnie ambled past darkened shops and cafes, past trees with blackened and bare limbs. She walked sightless. The rain pattering on the black canopy and the rhythm of walking lulled her into a meditative trance.

 _It is easier to forgive an enemy than it is a friend._  No shit. Forgiveness for her was out of the question. To be an enemy, that is something of an isolated incident. But to be a friend turned nemesis caused a ripple effect through the pool of time. Every memory, every incident prior to that one act of treachery became tainted. Happy times turned to vinegar. Indolent days watching the world through blades of grass or through each other's fingertips crumbled to dust. Nothing mattered once a heart is irrevocably shattered. Nothing existed except the absence.

In the days and weeks after Bonnie left with Klaus, the pain immobilized her. The night replayed over and over. Sounds and smells were amplified. The taste of dark magic thickened her tongue and made her blood sing a language she never heard. At night it all pressed upon her, followed her into the daylight and haunted her steps. It crippled her. And it would have crippled her still if not for Stefan.

Bonnie stepped over a puddle. Stefan was a padlocked door behind a barbed wire fence behind an inflamed mote. He frustrated her plans, upset her desires, made it impossible to think clearly. He was a distraction in her head. Bonnie veered away from the name on her tongue and circled back to the crux of all problems.

Elena had to be found. That much was certain. Bonnie struggled with what to do once that happened. She weighed her options to find there was none but one available: death. Elena would continue to be a viable threat as long as she lived. Klaus was in a forgiving mood now, but should a few hybrids end up dead or missing or, God forbid, free, he would expect blood and fire. She needed to prepare for that possibility. Klaus would kill her one remaining loved one without notice, without pause. Her family was virtually eradicated in service to the Gilbert family. Would she risk Alaric in order to appease some shred of lingering loyalty to Elena? Could she even do it?

Lightning split the sky. Sound collapsed around her ears. Bonnie glanced up to see an even darker ridge of clouds rolling in from the west. Perhaps she could spend the day sequestered in her room. Room service could provide anything she might want and her mind needed the passivity of telenovela viewing.

Bonnie slowed the severity of the storm until she returned to The Jefferson. She stood in the lobby with a valet and watched the rain wash the world to gray. It sounded like a river rushing loose through the woods, snapping and pitching trees. This display of pure nature appealed to the witch she used to be. She wanted to run out and be the rain, be the wind and the trees, be bent and snapped. Her vision of the storm became refracted and shiny. Bonnie turned in one abrupt movement and left the vision behind.

She took the elevator to the fifth floor and walked down the hall to her suite. She sighed as she searched her pockets for the key card. Her fingers brushed plastic as a shadow fell across the doorway. Bonnie looked up knowing it was him. It was always him.

Her heart beat slowed as her eyes fell on his face. She forgot the key card. It had been almost two days since she used his body as a cover. Those two days vanished as they gazed at each other, silent, alone.

His murky eyes stared into hers. She wanted to lurk in his shifting eyes for a while. She wanted to dive deep and lose touch. He moved closer or she did or he drew them together—Bonnie was never sure of how they moved when alone. All she was sure of was the weight of his arm against her back and the firmness of his lips on hers, and the sense of finality when she tasted coffee and peppermint gum.

He gripped her tight and they melted through the door. The suite was the same overcast shade as the sky. Bonnie pulled him into a pool of deep blue shadows. She kissed him past all breath, and only stopped when her body trembled for oxygen.

She unbuttoned her coat and toed off her boots. He followed shirt for shirt, jeans for jeans, undergarment for undergarment until they were naked, the storm playing on their skin. They looked at each other like land on the horizon. Each passing second Bonnie became more aware of his effect on her. Blood rushed to her skin in waves, running from warm to hot to blistering. She was slick all over, moist and aching, and all he did was stand within arm's reach. Being a vampire he didn't sweat, and his skin remained the same even tone, but his eyes were heavy and his mouth slightly apart and his fingers curled in. His erection drew her eyes. She thought of the blood it took to feed it, blood not belonging to him. It quivered. His stare grew dense and his breathing shallow.

Bonnie pointed to the couch. He sat without taking his eyes from her. She stepped between his open legs and straddled him. The tip his erection pushed against her lips. She swallowed all that engorged flesh in a slow descent. He released a breath that shook them both. She rolled her hips and watched the sharp angles of his face and the block of shadows that were his eyes, watched his hands light on her sides and circle around to grip her buttocks. He surged up as he brought her forward. She braced her hands on the couch as they moved, rotating and driving. His lips touched her neck and she sank against him. Her hands left the fabric of the couch to grip the fabric of his shoulders. His lips wandered over veins and arteries of her throat, along the exposed collarbone, down to her breasts and then back up, all the while grinding his hips against hers.

She breathed harder. Uneven gasps broke the sounds of rhythmic pounding. She closed in on that elastic band of pleasure, felt it tightening to an acute point of implosion. She was aware of being pulled back, then saw him, then him above her, and beyond him the ceiling and the inclement sky. The sensation of his body, hot and slick like her own, pressed along the lengths and curves of her flesh and skin forced the climax nearer. She hooked a leg around his waist and rose with greater urgency. She felt his eyes on her face and looked into them. For the first time she saw how they changed, from gray to a startling green then to some kind of variegated brown. She saw her own desire gazing back, her own need magnified by an emotion known only to those who have craved. He looked into her face and in a moment of unguarded passion, she saw how deep this emotion ran. It called to her across a distance of minds, a vastness of souls. It called to her, desperate. She looked away with a cry of pleasurable anguish. She came with her face inside his neck, his scent all around, her hand against the dull thrum of his heart.

The insensate period passed in quiet. Bonnie shifted under his weight to alert him to move, but he remained on top of her. She relaxed and let her arm trail down his back. She grabbed his ass and smiled when he nipped her shoulder. He rolled off to lay along the inside of the couch, one arm behind his head. Bonnie rested her head on the muscle of his arm and breathed in the silence.

"What happened here?" He stroked the bite marks of her neck.

"I stepped between a werewolf and your brother."

"Why would you do that?"

"Because…" Bonnie shrugged. "Because your brother was worth more alive at that moment than dead."

Stefan arched a brow. "A straight answer. I thought it was impossible."

"Impossible for you, not for me." Bonnie took his hand and placed it on a breast. He palmed it then ran an idle thumb over the nipple, back and forth.

"I was furious with you," Bonnie said.

"You had a wonderful way of showing it."

"You could have told me you were here."

"If I did that, I wouldn't know as much as I know now." Stefan slid his hand down her stomach. "It is much harder to lie than it is to omit."

Bonnie gripped his wrist before he went further south. "So you know everything." She looked into his face. The distance settled between them once again. Bonnie dropped his hand and got up. "I wonder sometimes about the games we play. If we should stop them."

"Why would we stop something mutually beneficent?"

Bonnie pulled on her underwear. "It's not mutual if it benefits only you."

She dressed in silence. His eyes followed her movements. Bonnie had forgotten her anger, but it returned like heat returning slow to water.

"I need you to leave. It's earlier than usual, but you are irritating the hell out of me."

Stefan sighed and swung his legs to the floor. "Talk to me."

"Talk to you about what you already know?" Bonnie walked away to the bedroom. She went into the bathroom to splash cool water on her hot cheeks. When she looked up, he was there in the mirror, dressed, an impeccably cool, fuckable shadow.

"I asked you to give me time."

"Klaus wanted to find you. I volunteered. In that instance, I saved you without your permission. I'm sorry."

He stepped into the bathroom. "And you irritate me too, much more than you know. I can't seem to leave you alone."

Bonnie took her eyes off him. "That's because we've let this go on too long. Klaus knows."

"The Damon story. " Stefan grinned. "It must be true since it's so ludicrous."

"I never gave him any indication that, well," Bonnie paused. "What led him to suspect?"

"You started to smoke. And you weren't answering your phone. And you lost some of that playful seriousness he loves about you."

Bonnie shifted. That word bothered her. It was too well chosen, and he spoke it softly. She didn't like how closely she was watched. Her habits were supposed to pass unnoticed, but Klaus had his attention on her. This was useful to know.

"I'll stop smoking then. And answer my phone. And be more playfully serious." Bonnie unzipped a makeup bag. She fixed her eyes on Stefan. "Anything else?"

"Have you eaten?"

* * *

Stefan took her to a brassiere in Carytown. They sat near the window, warmed by the yellow lights, the smell of bread, and the prospect of good food. She perused the menu while Stefan glanced at it once and ordered. Bonnie warded of any conversation by focusing on the cheese plate or the graying street or her steak. Her mind was back in Mystic Falls as she ate, questioning memories.

She put the events up till then in order. There was the phone call, coming home, visiting the boarding house, finding Damon and Lorel, the attack in her bedroom, Klaus, and then this…Bonnie glanced at Stefan. He caught her eye over a glass of wine. One dark eyebrow rose. She picked up a fry but didn't eat it. Stefan was a proven distractor, yes, but he was also a great mind, and she needed insight. She had overlooked something.

"Elena sold the house."

Stefan nodded. "Yes, she put it on the market when she was accepted to Duke."

"Damon and Alaric searched her apartment in Durham, found nothing. She came back to Mystic Falls though, every so often."

"She stayed at the boarding house."

Bonnie frowned. "Did she? Alaric didn't mention that. And I saw zero signs of Elena ever staying there."

"She had to live somewhere during summer."

Bonnie stared at him without seeing him. Elena had been planning for years. She wouldn't be stupid enough to leave anything at the boarding house or her apartment in Durham. She would go somewhere from the past, somewhere no one would think she would go. Somewhere no one wanted to go.

The waiter came to ask about dessert.

"No, the check please," Bonnie interrupted.

"I wanted a coffee, actually," Stefan said.

Bonnie quirked her lips. "We'll stop at Starbucks on the way."

"On the way to…?"

"Mystic Falls. I have business with the dead."


End file.
